July 13 2014 UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

As a writer, I love the clarity of mind summoned by a blank page. As someone who has just said goodbye to five family members after 3 weeks of living together, I fear it is my mind that is blank and I wonder if clarity can be found from such a state.One thing is clear to me though; that there was a dreadful pang of separation each time we waved goodbye and with it, the sudden knowledge that this is the price Joel and I are paying for having run away from home; the absence of family interaction.  And yet, how easily idealization brackets reality. The truth is, if we were still in New York we a) would not see our family as often as we like to imagine we would and b) we certainly wouldn’t experience the riches of living together, albeit briefly, on a farm in Tuscany.What joy to see our children and their mates and our 5 year-old granddaughter surrender to the landscape, the peace and simplicity of life here. To hear them groan with pleasure over every juicy meal, and to see afresh, through their eyes, the medieval towns and villages, the voluptuous hills and valleys and the never-ending sky and its dazzling illumination. Together we licked cones, ran for shelter in thunder storms, caught geckos in Grandpa’s handmade net, swam, hung more loads of laundry on the line that I care to count (I stopped at 32), christened the outdoor oven, gave and received advice, and played badminton without keeping score, and sometimes without a net.  We saw each other intimately and loved each other through the flaws. As parents we watched, with great pleasure, our children interact with each other, with their partners and with our granddaughter. And for sure, we were seen by all of them. Like the badminton games, we didn’t keep score, unless you want to call it love-all.By ArielBy ArielThe Gecko guest By ArielAnd through it all, our newly made home held us in its easy embrace. The kitchen tiny as it is, accommodated 3 cooks; David, Joel and myself, while the absence of a dishwasher gave everyone plenty of chances to take turns at the sink…and might I say, not a single glass or dish was broken!And yes, we are tired. The desire for the perfect family never leaves us does it? And even tho’ I know better, I still found myself coming up short, experiencing myself as not always being the person I wish to be. And who is that person? The one who gives constantly without expectation? The one who lives only to be of service? The one who can allow herself to be selfless? How hard it is to navigate one’s duality. In our case, the desire to be both parent and artist. After a year and a half of living “away from it all,” of having had the luxury of giving ourselves wholly to each other and our art, it is a shock to discover that the struggle to be both parent and artist still exists.I chose, for these 3 weeks, to put my work aside and be with the family and the rewards of having done so are beyond measure. But those of you who have been reading this blog for any length of time will know that I’m always in search of the truth of the matter. And so I owe it to myself and to you, and to our children, to say that a piece of me went missing for 3 weeks and it was painful. It was painful to be away from my creative process and it was even more painful that this was the truth; that the absence of that part of myself actually caused a temporary mental fog, as if the only way I could ride out the shame of my selfishness was to create a screen of confusion.Perhaps it is the universal guilt that accompanies the imperfect job of parenting that has us always trying to compensate for that which we lacked in the past. In other words, the misconception that one will get it right this time if only one tries harder. What bollocks! And what a frightful example to set; disrespectful really…because the truth is that if I had allowed myself a couple of hours a day at the desk no-one would have thought badly of me.So what’s the problem? The problem is that I lack the courage to find out whether once at my desk its sway might be greater than that of family. It’s no joke. Name me an artist who made a good parent/spouse/friend. Dickens? Picasso? Lessing? Hemingway? Mozart? The urge to create is powerful, be it children or art. To create either takes commitment and tremendous energy. To create both is perhaps inhuman.So here’s to my family, with gratitude for their love and support, for their laughter and respect, and most of all, for keeping me merely human.NB. As promised we will soon be posting photos of our house and garden, so keep your eyes open for a follow-up.